


Under the Sun

by iLurked



Series: Simmons Family Values [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Established WxS, F/M, FitzSimmons did not end up at the bottom of the ocean, Hydra? What Hydra? AU, Ward is not Hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iLurked/pseuds/iLurked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team was taking a day off: a day without missions, a day without Hydra, a day without bloodshed, and most especially a day without those damned communicators buzzing in their ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> For wssummer week 1 prompt: 'Day Off in (insert location of your choice)'

Finding Fitz asleep in the kitchen with his face on top of his breakfast pancakes was the final straw for Agent Melinda May. Phil Coulson was spreading the team too thin in his quest to clean up SHIELD after the Hydra debacle.

The team was taking a day off: a day without missions, a day without Hydra, a day without bloodshed, and most especially a day without those damned communicators buzzing in their ears.

The Queen had spoken, therefore, a few hours later, the Bus landed on an island paradise in the Pacific; population: two hundred families.

They arrived at half past six in the evening, and already the sun had bowed out to the full moon. The stars shone down at them, bright and beautiful.

Of course, all of these were lost on most of the team.

(You can take the workaholics out of the workplace, but you can’t take the work out of the workaholics.)

Fitz found out that the small island never had electricity, so he immediately sketched out the schematics for a portable generator that would power the entire island on solar, sea, and wind energy.

Skye immediately checked for a phone or wifi signal and finding none, began pestering Fitz to hook them up to an orbiting satellite or something.

Coulson worked his charm on the natives, specifically on the island chief, because one never knew when one would need SHIELD allies from the Pacific. Also, it was a very nice surprise to find out that most of the locals knew enough English to communicate with the foreigners.

Simmons found out that one child was sick so she ransacked the medical supplies of the bus and rushed to the kid’s bedside. She hadn’t been heard of since.

Ward immediately walked the perimeter, familiarising himself with the terrain, looking for any potential threats to his team.

May sighed.

Tomorrow. They would take the day off tomorrow.

Maybe.

…

The roosters began their call before six in the morning. Already, the sun was beginning to peek through, as if it could no longer bear not to see the island paradise.

Ward heard the wonderful sound of Simmons’ laughter moments before he stepped out the hut he spent the night in, shared with Coulson and Fitz.

His delighted smile, however, dimmed on his first step outside.

He saw Coulson and Fitz with their jaws on the sand after seeing May in a fire-engine red bikini.

Skye was stretched out on a lounger, working on her tan.

Those were not what ruined Ward’s morning, however.

It was the handsome (and shirtless) bronzed man who closely resembled a pagan god standing too close to Simmons that had Ward seeing red. Worse, he remembered meeting the man the night before: he was the eldest unmarried son of the island chieftain who was of age to wed.

Ward watched with narrowed eyes as the island prince said something that made Simmons beam and nod enthusiastically.

To Ward’s alarm, the brat had solicitously placed his hand at the small of Simmons' back and began ushering her towards the general direction of the chieftain’s cottage.

“Oh, no,” Ward muttered under his breath. Before he knew it, his feet took him towards the duo.

“Good morning, Ward.” Simmons greeted him as soon as he reached them. She stopped to make introductions. “You remember Isagani, the chieftain’s son?”

A curt nod was his reply. 

In return, Isagani looked at Ward from head to foot, obviously irritated that the interruption.

“Isagani told me that he had recently harvested tamilok from the mangrove forest.” She continued, oblivious to the posturing between the two men. “It’s a local delicacy. I’ve read all about it, and I’m so curious to try it.”

“What a coincidence,” Ward immediately interjected. “I want some, too.”

“You want to taste it?” Simmons wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure? You don’t exactly have the most adventurous palate.”

Ward frowned. Just because he treated his body like the temple it was by eating healthy, organic food as often as possible did not mean that he was not adventurous. He was a specialist, for crying out loud. He spent many missions eating dry and tasteless army food rations. He was confident that he could handle the local vegetation.

“I want to taste it.” He told Simmons resolutely.

A superior look from the prince did not sit well with Ward.

Resolutely, Ward deliberately reached for Simmons’ hand, pressed a kiss on the back of it, before he enveloped it in his much bigger one.

Simmons frowned at Ward, but she did not remove her hand from his. She did, however, roll her eyes when she figured out what the handholding was all about.

Isagani frowned at the display of affection. His eyes met Ward’s.

Ward smirked at the unspoken question. Yes, Simmons was his. Well, not exactly his. She was not a possession. But they were dating. Only, it was a secret. An open secret on the Bus because Simmons just had to tell Fitz who could not keep his mouth shut. But still. A secret.

Isagani’s face fell in disappointment. 

In retrospect, maybe Ward should have been put on alert because Isagani immediately recovered, smiling an evil, insane movie antagonist smile.

“Want to eat tamilok?” Isagani asked, his voice deep and heavily accented. “I give tamilok.”

…

“What is that?” Ward demanded suspiciously as Isagani set a huge jug of dark liquid and a small shot glass on the table. But it was the contents of deep clay pot that was already on top of the table that alarmed Ward so. The pot was filled with slimy, translucent, writhing worms that resembled umbilical cords. “That is not a fruit or a vegetable.”

“Tamilok.” Isagani replied with a smirk, confirming Ward’s fears.

“Tamilok is also called mangrove woodworms because they’re found inside rotten pieces of mangrove roots,” Simmons told him matter-of-factly. “It’s not really a worm, but more of a mollusk.”

“Tamilok good.” Isagani affirmed before adding snidely to Ward, “Look like you need it. Make you a man.”

Simmons’s nose scrunched up in confusion, before she once again brightened when she figured out what Isagani was saying. “I think he means it’s an aphrodisiac.”

“I do not need—”

Ward’s angry protest deflated when Isagani reached for one of the bigger and longer worm, popped one end in his mouth, and slurped it in, much like a child eating a strand of spaghetti did. After he swallowed, Isagani poured himself a shot of the dark liquid from the jug and downed it in one gulp.

Ward felt his stomach turn, but Simmons’ grin only became wider.

“You can eat them raw and alive?” She asked delightedly. “May I?”

Ward turned to look at her as if she was insane.

“Yes. Raw better. New catch, better.” Isagani told Simmons.

It took her a few tries and two hands to finally capture one. “This is so exciting,” she gushed right before putting one in her mouth. Her eyes widened as she chewed slowly, thoughtfully.

Isagani poured another shot and placed it in front of Simmons. “Lambanog.” He indicated to the drink.

Simmons swallowed then downed the shot. “Oh. Oh, wow.”

Isagani nodded approvingly.

In unison, both Simmons and Isagani turned expectantly at Ward.

“What?” Ward demanded defensively.

Neither Simmons nor Isagani replied. They simply grinned manically at the specialist.

"Your turn." Simmons smiled at him encouragingly when Ward hesitated, his hands inches away from the pot containing the offending dish.

But it was Isagani’s victorious smirk that finally moved Ward to place a hand inside the pot to fish for a worm, hopefully a thin and short one. Moments later, he could not help the look of abject disgust on his face as he eyed the wriggling worm in his finger.

“It tastes like oysters with a hint of squid and wood.” Simmons tried to reassure him.

Biting the bullet, Ward squeezed his eyes shut before putting the worm into his mouth.

He promptly wanted to spit it out, but if Simmons could do it, so could he. Taking deep breaths, he chewed and desperately tried not to taste the worm in his mouth.

He didn’t like it. Simmon lied. It was nothing like oyster or squid. It tasted like how he imagined a worm would taste like. It was slimy. And alive. In desperation to wash away the taste of the worm from his mouth, he accepted the shot of lambanog Isagani handed to him.

The lambanog was a surprise: a bad one. It was like swallowing kerosene that burned its way down his throat and settled uncomfortably in his stomach.

Ward started coughing, his eyes watering. “Are the two of you trying to poison me?”

Promptly, both Isagani and Simmons burst into laughter.

“Lambanog is the local alcohol fermented from coconut milk.” Simmons explained. “It was a tad strong, though.”

Isagani, still laughing, slapped Ward's back in camaraderie. “Eat tamilok. Drink lambanog. Be big man. Make doctor happy.” He told him before leaving.

“Good riddance.” Ward muttered.

When he turned to Simmons, he saw that she was grinning widely.

“What?” He asked suspiciously.

“Want to eat more tamilok to be a big man and make me happy?” She asked.

He leaned closer to her to whisper, “I don’t need tamilok to be a big man to make you happy.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

Simmons, adorably pleased with her specialist, playfully pressed her lips to his. She then pulled back and laughed, and Ward could not help but smile in response.

It was a perfect day in paradise.

Well. Almost.

Now, if only Ward could get rid of all the tamilok on the table.

Its (nonexistent) smell was making him nauseous. 

…

Meanwhile…

“Yes! Quick! Fitz!” Skye called out, almost falling out of her lounger in her excitement. “I’ve got a bar of signal! Come on! Let’s make Trip jealous that we’re on an island paradise while he’s in Barrow, Alaska.”

“Serves him right after that photo he sent with RDJ in Venice while we were fighting a Hydra faction in Korea.” Fitz grinned as he knelt down beside Skye’s lounger.

“Say cheese!” She grinned as she took a selfie with the engineer.

Soon, she and Fitz were staring at their images, forever immortalised with huge sunnies and huger grins, with the boundless ocean behind them and the blue, blue skies above.

Skye was so excited to send the photo to Agent Trip that she failed to closely scrutinise it before pressing send.

It was unfortunate that she did not notice that at the upper lefthand corner were Ward and Simmons, captured at the very moment that her lips touched his.

It would have escaped the unobservant eye.

Unfortunately, there was nothing unobservant about SHIELD agents and their cohorts.


End file.
